


Honesty

by draculard



Series: Comfortween [16]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Trapped in a Storage Room, Truth Serum, enemies to friends to ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: When negotiations go wrong, Hera and Thrawn are trapped in a storage room together.And as if that weren't bad enough, some genius starts pumping truth serum in through the vents.
Relationships: Hera Syndulla/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Comfortween [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946224
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	Honesty

“Did you know we have a base on Atollon?” Hera blurted.

Across from her, Thrawn’s only reaction to this should-be-stunning news was to shake his head. He was backed up against the wall with his hands clamped tightly over his mouth. Even from a distance, Hera could see that his knuckles were white; so white that he had to be—

“You’re holding your mouth closed, aren’t you?” Hera said, the words spilling out of her in a rush. She could sympathize; she’d tried biting her tongue to stop herself from speaking, and all she’d accomplished was a mouthful of blood.

Thrawn’s head wrenched up and down as he nodded in answer to her question, seemingly against his will. His skull hit the durasteel door with a _thunk_ , making him wince.

“We’ve been on Atollon for months now but it’s all touch-and-go,” Hera continued. She felt her mouth moving, forming words without her permission, and felt powerless to stop it. As she spoke, she crossed the room to Thrawn and joined him near the storage room door. “We’re hoping to move somewhere more permanent soon, but anywhere we can hide from the Imperials is a plus. Maybe we’ll go back to Lothal, if we can. Or maybe we’ll head to Yavin 4.”

Yavin 4. She’d just told him about _Yavin 4._ Oh, this was great.

Thrawn’s shoulders tensed as she approached him, but he didn’t move away. He only watched, eyes wide and hands still clamped over his lips, as Hera tried the door release.

“I know you already tried this,” Hera said. “And I don’t really expect it to work but I feel useless standing there doing nothing and just blabbing all my secrets to you. Don’t you feel useless?”

Thrawn nodded, then squeezed his eyes shut as if cursing himself for responding. Hera ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth, trying to get rid of the nasty, metallic taste left behind by the gas her so-called allies had funneled into the room.

“What do you think it is?” she asked Thrawn. “Some sort of truth serum?”

He gave a very tense shrug. For a moment, making eye contact with Thrawn, Hera didn’t say anything. She couldn’t seem to stop her thoughts from coming out of her mouth.

“It’s not fair that I’m sitting here telling you everything and you’re not saying a word,” she complained.

Thrawn narrowed his eyes at her. His hands stayed firmly over his mouth, but Hera could hear muffled, unintelligible words coming from behind his fingers. Hera listened, trying to make out the words.

“Hey,” she said when Thrawn stopped talking. She cocked her head. “Let me ask you a question.”

He shook his head emphatically, but it wasn’t like he could stop her. It wasn’t like Hera could stop _herself_. She put her hands on his wrists and tried to tug them away from his mouth, but he didn’t budge. Hera didn’t give up.

“Were you really gonna negotiate with me?” she asked, still yanking on him. “Or was it just a trap?”

Thrawn started to nod against his will, and the combination of that with Hera’s constant tugging at his wrists finally dislodged his hands. No sooner had his palms left his lips than he blurted out, “Yes, of course I was going to negotiate to you. Negotiation is always preferable to battle, and your Rebel cell is full of talented individuals; to waste their lives in a pointless military encounter—”

With a violent burst of force, Thrawn wrenched his hands out of her grasp and covered his mouth again. He shot her a glare from over the top of his fingers.

Hera returned the glare reflexively, but it faded fast. She studied Thrawn, unwilling to accept his words as true. She’d been _certain_ this was a trap; she’d only agreed to meet him because of her allies, the smugglers, who were _supposed_ to help keep her safe and even capture Thrawn if the opportunity presented itself.

Apparently, they thought the opportunity had presented itself.

Since Thrawn’s fleet was currently in orbit over their meeting place, and Hera herself was currently trapped with Thrawn in a storage room where they were both breathing in some sort of truth serum, she tended to disagree.

“Take your hands off your mouth,” she demanded, tugging at Thrawn’s wrists again.

He shook his head vehemently. From behind his hands, she could hear him mumbling something that included the words “Imperial secrets.”

“Well, damn your Imperial secrets!” said Hera, irate. She took a step back from Thrawn, eyeing him critically. This was the opportunity of a lifetime; she had an Imperial Grand Admiral locked in a room with her and suffering from the effects of truth serum. If she didn’t do something with this — especially after revealing the location of her Rebel base — she’d never be able to face Ghost crew again.

So how to get him to take his hands away from his mouth?

Well, actually, that seemed pretty simply when Hera thought about it.

She braced herself against the wall with her hands and jumped up — aiming both feet in a powerhouse kick directly between Thrawn’s legs. 

He’d have to move his hands to block her, she thought. Or else he’d let her kick him, and then he’d have to move his hands anyway, to deal with the pain. But neither of these predictions came true. As if he’d known exactly what she was going to do, Thrawn dropped to the floor as soon as Hera jumped up, and by the time her feet reached the area where his balls had once been, he’d rolled onto his back and lifted his own feet in a counter-attack.

The soles of Hera’s boots struck the soles of Thrawn’s boots. He absorbed the power of her kick and threw it right back at her, slamming her against the wall.

And then he sat up gracefully, his legs crossed beneath him, his hands still covering his mouth. 

“ _Ow_ ,” Hera said, rubbing the back of her head where it had collided with the wall. “How’d you know I was gonna do that?”

She couldn’t make out Thrawn’s answer, but it seemed to go on for _ages_. After a while, Hera waved him off. The pain and the truth serum combined made her feel more than a little disgruntled. She settled with her back against the wall and her arms crossed, mimicking Thrawn’s posture. 

“Okay,” she said, interrupting his long-as-fuck explanation. “How about we make some rules, then? That way you can take your hands off your mouth and neither of us has to worry about letting military secrets go.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed at her. He said something that sounded vaguely like ‘I’m listening.’

“Neither of us—” Hera took a deep breath, unable to believe she was saying this. “Neither of us asks the other anything to do with the military or our weapons or capabilities. Okay?”

Thrawn continued to glare at her for a moment. Then, tentatively, he lowered his hands. “You revealed military secrets without being asked,” he pointed out. Then, with a hint of anxiety and a rushed aspect to his words, as if he weren’t saying this willingly, he added, “I’m afraid I might do the same. We can't stop ourselves, after all. If you ask me something...”

Hera watched as he scowled at himself and covered his mouth again.

“Well, if either of us do, then it’s our own fault,” said Hera, trying not to let it show how much that admission smarted. “Can you agree to that?”

“I distrust your intentions,” Thrawn said at once, slipping his fingers down to cover his chin instead of his mouth. “I suspect you have ulterior motives. Perhaps you believe you can trick me into revealing military secrets somehow, though I doubt you can.”

“I doubt I can, too,” said Hera — and now it was her turn to scowl at herself. 

“Besides which,” said Thrawn, “while I do in fact believe the truth serum has affected you as much as it has me, I have no concrete evidence of such. You could be misleading me.”

“You think I’d tell you where our base is if I wasn’t on truth serum?” Hera asked.

Thrawn shook his head. “No. I’m saying it’s possible that Atollon is not really your base, that you deceived me. Quite adeptly, too, as I still believe you were telling the truth. Perhaps unwisely.”

Hera quirked an eyebrow at him. “How do I know the truth serum actually affected you?” she countered.

“You don’t,” said Thrawn at once. Then, trying to stop himself, he added, “I would rather you continued to be unsure.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” said Hera sourly.

“Is it against the rules to continue our negotiations?” asked Thrawn, raising an eyebrow.

Hera cocked her head to the side. “You really want to?” she asked. “Even knowing you have to be honest?”

“Why should that be a problem for _me_?” Thrawn countered. He seemed to be relaxing against the truth serum; he let his hands drop from his face entirely, clasping them around his knees. “I’ve always found it counter-intuitive to lie.”

Hera snorted automatically, before she remembered that Thrawn was telling her this under the power of a truth serum. She eyed him speculatively. Was he telling the truth? He was claiming to be a fundamentally honest person, but he was an Imperial, and a Grand Admiral, no less. Were _any_ Imperials honest, of any rank?

Were any _Rebels_ honest? They were at war, for God’s sake. Honesty had no place here. 

Thrawn watched her think for a moment, then gave a tiny shrug.

“Of the two of us, I believe I have more cause for concern,” he said mildly. “After all, you are the one whose allies locked us in here and flooded the room with gas.”

Hera sat up straight, her eyes burning. “That’s not fair,” she said. “I barely know these guys.”

“Yet you partnered with them?” Thrawn asked, raising an eyebrow. “That seems highly reckless, Captain Syndulla.”

“We have to be reckless,” said Hera gruffly. “We’re not the ones in power here. We don’t have the resources to pick and choose who we partner with.”

“A situation I’m well familiar with, though your Republic-centric point of view on the galaxy perhaps does not allow you to see it,” said Thrawn. An odd expression crossed his face; his hands tensed on his knees, as if he were fighting the urge to cover his mouth again. Hera watched him, compressing her lips.

“I’m not gonna ask what you meant by that,” she said, her voice measured. “Purely because _I_ remember the rules. But trust me, I’m desperate to ask.”

Thrawn grimaced. “Let’s change the subject,” he said, his hands twitching. He cast his eyes about the room. “Your smugglers. Why do you trust them?”

“I don’t,” said Hera at once, and then she shook her head. “And that’s against the rules!”

“Ah,” said Thrawn. His face worked as he tried to hold back follow-up questions. Eventually, very delicately, he cast about for something more innocent and said, “Where are you from?”

Hera stared at him. He stared back at her awkwardly.

“Are you serious?” Hera asked.

Thrawn appeared to be holding his breath. He let it out in a long sigh. “Ryloth,” he said. “I know.”

“So why’d you ask?” Hera said.

“All the questions I want to ask violate the rules,” said Thrawn with a vague gesture. “Or else are too impolite to say aloud.”

“Impolite?” Hera said, her eyes widening. She leaned forward a little. “Like what?”

Thrawn avoided her eyes, looking mildly peeved.

“Like personal questions?” asked Hera, unable to let it go. She glanced down the length of Thrawn’s body and felt her mouth moving against her will. “I wouldn’t mind personal questions,” she said. “You’re not bad-looking yourself.”

Goddamn it. Fuck this serum. Hera hid her face in her hands and gently thumped herself on the forehead in frustration. Meanwhile, Thrawn’s eyes snapped back to her with unmistakable horror.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

As if he’d never interrupted her, and as if she'd never had a mental breakdown over what she just said, Hera heard herself ask, “How long is your cock?”

The look of horror intensified, but Thrawn’s mouth wasn’t entirely under his control, either. “Twenty centimeters,” he responded.

“ _Twenty_?” Hera repeated. Thrawn scowled down at the floor, his cheeks turning a darker shade of blue. “What about soft?” Hera asked, unable to stop herself.

“That _is_ soft,” said Thrawn. 

“You’re shitting me,” said Hera at once. “Nobody who says they have a twenty-centimeter cock actually has one.”

Thrawn shrugged, not seeming particularly bothered by this accusation. A horrible thought popped into Hera’s mind, and she knew it was only a matter of time before it popped out of her mouth as well.

“Prove it,” she said against her will.

Thrawn glanced at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t really want that,” he said, his voice calm and self-assured.

“I do,” Hera insisted. “It’s the only way to prove you’re affected by the truth serum.”

“It certainly isn’t,” said Thrawn almost huffily. 

“It most certainly is,” Hera argued. “ _Every_ guy exaggerates about his size. If you're really twenty centimeters, then I know you're just as affected as I am.”

“I have no reason to be vain about size,” Thrawn said as he shook his head. 

“It’s not a cultural mark of pride for your species?” Hera asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thrawn frowned at her. It was clear he didn’t want to answer … but her question didn’t violate the rules, so his hands flexed on his knees, but he didn’t bring them up to cover his mouth. Begrudgingly, he said, “It is for some men. I’ve never understood precisely why. Skill and attentiveness are far more important aspects.”

“Sounds like something a guy with a small cock would say,” Hera said.

Thrawn gave her a dry look. “What will _you_ do to prove it, then?” he asked. 

“You show me first,” said Hera with a shrug, “and we’ll figure it out. I _did_ already tell you about the Rebel base.”

Thrawn scoffed — and then, to Hera’s amazement, he stood, unsealing his tunic and draping it over a nearby crate. She watched with wide eyes as he untucked his undershirt, the black fabric accentuating his blue skin, his biceps gleaming under the artificial lights.

Quietly, while Thrawn was distracted, Hera covered her mouth.

He paused with his shirt untucked, his hands on his belt buckle. Looking around, he located his datapad, still sitting where he’d dropped it when gas had drifted in through the air vents earlier. Hera saw him looking at it and grabbed it off the floor.

“Screen’s cracked,” she told him. She tried the power button. “Won’t turn on.”

Thrawn grimaced.

“You wanted it for its measurement capabilities?” Hera guessed.

“Yes,” he said, glancing around the storage room. “I doubt we’ll find a measuring stick anywhere in here. And if we don't find one, then really, there's no point to this. I'm just ... exposing myself for no reason.”

“I have a scanner on my datapad,” Hera pointed out. “So long as you don’t mind the size of your dick being forever immortalized in Rebel databases.”

Thrawn weighed this for a moment and then gave a shrug, apparently deciding this information was harmless in the hands of Rebels. As Hera turned her datapad on, he slipped his belt out of its loops and placed it on top of his tunic. She got her datapad ready, setting it to scan and watching intently as Thrawn unbuttoned his trousers and pushed the waistband of his underwear down.

“Oh,” Hera said, her voice going funny on her.

Thrawn glanced up at her with a stunning mix of self-consciousness and feigned indifference, holding his cock loosely in his hand. For a long moment, Hera forgot to scan _anything_. Thrawn’s cock was long and thick and straight, shaped more like the impossibly handsome cocks of porn stars than anything she’d seen in real life. 

“What is it?” Thrawn asked, studying Hera’s face. “Is it that different from Twi’lek men?”

“What?” said Hera, blinking. Hastily, she scanned Thrawn’s cock and waited for the read-out. “No, it’s not that different,” she said. “It’s just…” She narrowed her eyes at the screen of her datapad and shook her head. “Twenty-point-nine,” she said, her voice soft with disbelief.

Thrawn looked almost disappointed in himself. “I thought I’d estimated better than that,” he muttered, staring down at his cock in dismay. 

“I thought _all_ guys measured their cocks at some point,” said Hera, watching as Thrawn tucked himself away casually, as if this sort of thing happened every day. “You’re telling me you’ve only ever _guessed_ at it? And you rounded _down_?”

He pulled his belt on. “No one’s ever questioned me about it quite so specifically before,” he said. “So no, I’ve never measured it. Have you ever measured your…” He looked up, scanning Hera’s body for an equivalent, and gestured vaguely with his hand. “Your lekku?” he finished, reaching for his tunic.

“No,” said Hera. “Should I have?”

He said nothing, too busy sealing his tunic. The hard planes of his chest disappeared one centimeter at a time.

“It’s a shame you’re getting dressed,” Hera said.

Her mouth went dry. Thrawn looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed, and buttoned his collar around his neck.

“Because you’re quite attractive,” Hera continued, her treacherous mouth betraying her once again. 

“Thank you,” said Thrawn, his voice dry. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Keep that in mind—?” Hera started.

At the same time, with his hands busy on his collar, Thrawn couldn’t stop himself from saying, “You’re quite attractive as well. That is partially why I wished to meet you today.”

Hera stared at him, her throat tight, her eyes wide. Thrawn stared back at her for a moment, looking ill. 

“You … wanted to negotiate with me because you thought we might...?” asked Hera haltingly.

“No,” said Thrawn quickly. “No, I did not consider that an option for us. I only meant…”

He trailed off, making Hera blink. So far, _she_ hadn’t been able to trail off. Not under the truth serum's influence. If something popped into her head, the serum forced her to say it at once. Did this mean the serum affected Thrawn differently?

Or did it mean he wasn’t sure what he meant, so he couldn’t say?

He took a seat across from her, moving slowly and almost wearily. But he sat farther away than he did before, Hera noticed — with his back against one of the crates. She watched him for a moment, trying to read the expression on his face. He was drawing into himself, she realized; he was probably one step away from clamping his hands over his mouth again.

She studied him, searching for something safe to say.

“So…” she said. 

Thrawn’s eyes shifted her way. She had to find something innocent to say. Something better than asking him where he was from. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Hera asked.

She watched surprise flicker across Thrawn’s face before his features softened. “Green, I suppose,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased by the question. In fact, his voice was so soft and warm that he sounded almost _touched_ by it. “Thank you for asking.”

Hera blinked, half-smiling at the absurdity of that last sentence. “Thank you?” she said. “Why?”

“You could have asked me far more offensive things,” said Thrawn with a shrug.

“Like how long your cock is when it’s hard?” asked Hera.

Thrawn made a face, and suddenly Hera found herself stifling a laugh. She’d barely gotten her chuckle under control when a thought occurred to her and her smile died all on its own. She was laughing because Thrawn had made a face.

Because _Thrawn_ had made a face.

Because she thought _Grand Admiral Thrawn_ was funny.

(And he’d shown her his cock!)

(What was she _doing_???)

(Fuck.)

“What’s _your_ favorite color?” Thrawn asked her mildly, with no inkling of what was going on in her head. Hera took a moment to readjust, forcing the mild panic/moral dilemma to the back of her mind.

“I don’t know,” she said without thinking. “Probably blue.”

“Blue,” he said with a nod. “That’s what I thought.”

“Is it?” said Hera, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

“Blue is traditionally associated with honor, leadership, cleverness, and justice on Ryloth,” said Thrawn. “These are all traits you value and strive to emulate as a person. It makes sense you would—”

“I’ve never heard of blue meaning those things on Ryloth,” Hera protested, sitting up straighter.

“It’s not something you would be taught explicitly,” Thrawn said. “But it’s visible in your people’s art.”

Hera frowned at him, not sure she bought this explanation. After a moment, she leaned back on her palms and tilted her head. “What does green mean, then?” she asked. “For _your_ people.”

“It has negative associations as well as positive ones,” Thrawn said ambivalently. “I like it for many reasons.”

Hera lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Name some, then,” she said. “You already know mine.”

Thrawn’s lips twitched downward, but he didn’t cover his mouth, so he clearly didn’t object _too_ much to answering. “Many reasons,” he said again. “Green is not commonly found in nature on my home planet. The rarity makes it stand out more. I associate it with vegetation, also not common on my home planet. And vegetation is naturally associated with new life, springtime, creativity, rebirth, healing…”

Hera stared at him, saying nothing. His eyes seemed very far away. After a long moment, he shrugged.

“But you asked for multiple reasons, yes?” he said a tad roughly.

Hera nodded.

“Well, my brother wore it frequently, before he died,” Thrawn said with an unconvincing casualness. His eyes scanned the room absently before coming back and landing on her. His gaze lingered on her face, shifted down to her hands, shifted back to her face again. His lips parted slightly, then closed again, then thinned. “And I associate it with many other pleasant things,” he said, his voice neutral. 

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Hera stared at Thrawn, holding back all the questions she wasn’t allowed to ask. He avoided her eyes, but she thought he knew she was studying him. The way he tilted his head made her think perhaps he was _letting_ her study him.

She couldn’t ask him why he was with the Empire.

She couldn’t ask him how he’d achieved his rank or what his goals were.

But maybe…

“Would you ever consider switching sides?” Hera asked him.

Thrawn looked over at her, his head tilted curiously to the side. She watched a faint smile touch his lips.

“From the Empire to the Rebellion?” he asked. Then, "Is that question allowed, according to our rules?"

Hera couldn’t answer. Her heart was pounding.

“If the Rebellion ever outmatched the Empire in size and firepower,” he said with a shrug. “Then certainly I would join. It seems a more honorable entity, in general. I would have no qualms joining, were it to my advantage.” 

Hera felt her heart sink. “So it’s all about saving your own hide, isn’t it?” she said. “You don’t care who you side with, so long as you know _you’re_ safe.” 

“So long as I know my people are safe,” Thrawn corrected her softly. “So long as I know the galaxy is safe.”

“But it’s _never_ safe,” said Hera, her gut twisting as she stared at him. “Not with the Empire in charge.”

“Ah,” said Thrawn, smiling slightly. “Is the Empire in charge of the entire galaxy now? Nobody informed me.”

Hera stared at him for a long time, not comprehending. She thought about Thrawn’s cultured Coruscanti accent and then looked him over again, thinking of his veiled references to his homeworld; his blue skin; his red eyes.

“You’re from the Unknown Regions?” she asked.

He smiled, but didn’t answer.

“You really think the Empire will leave you alone?” she asked. “You really think it won’t turn against your people when it’s done decimating the rest of us?”

His smile stayed, but it turned softer, almost melancholy. “You’re asking the wrong questions,” he said quietly.

Hera felt her heart ache with a sadness she couldn’t quite explain. She stared at Thrawn for a long time, watching him avoid her eyes, watching his face flex as he tried to keep it blank.

“Why did you want to meet with me?” she asked.

Thrawn looked at her, his lips twitching into the most grim expression Hera had ever seen. “I don’t like to waste lives,” he said. “Particularly when those lives belong to competent soldiers, good leaders, and talented pilots. I knew that if I came to negotiate with you personally, rather than sending Governor Pryce or Admiral Konstantine, I could guarantee you would leave this room alive.”

Hera’s eyebrows furrowed. “But why would you care if I live or die?” she said roughly. “We’re enemies, remember?”

Thrawn’s face softened. “Yes,” he said, his eyes fixed on Hera’s, his expression difficult to read. “We’re enemies.”

And then, as Hera’s mouth went dry, Thrawn stretched out a little, checking his chrono and pulling his comlink out. Quietly, he showed her how much time had elapsed; Hera licked her lips and found the peculiar taste of gas had faded.

“I believe the truth serum has worn off,” Thrawn said, putting his comlink away.

He helped her to her feet while she was still processing his words.


End file.
